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Thy Kingdom Come

by Barbara Rowe

Under the porcelain sky,
a vast meadow of seawater
is laced with snakes of white light,
each glistening on its way to forever.

Pushed away from the work of words
I become again, amphibian,
where solitude is a privilege,
a smooth green sleeve to slip into.

Under this salt canopy,
bright angelfish
scurry back and forth,
while a bottom dweller lies dormant,
flicking its tiny Japanese fans.

I become salt,
sea, the unknown shadow passing over
a vast coral metropolis littered with gardens.